


Guess You Got Me In the Palm of Your Hand

by LivinOnARarePair



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivinOnARarePair/pseuds/LivinOnARarePair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidney doesn't dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guess You Got Me In the Palm of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Title from and fic based on the song I Don't Dance by Lee Brice.  
> I'm on a country kick. It's awful. Have some fluff.

Geno is a pretty easygoing guy. He has no qualms about getting down when the team goes out to bars or clubs.

Sid’s kind of the opposite.

That doesn’t stop Geno from trying to pull Sid along, trying to get Sid to dance with him. Sid usually ducks under Geno’s arm around his shoulders, and Geno goes to dance with Nealer who has no qualms about anything. It’s funny to watch them dance together, grinding out of sync, arms waving wildly above their heads. Sid likes to watch, savour the way Geno’s shirt clings to him, the way his smile crinkles his eyes, the way his sure hands fall on Nealer’s waist when the other man stumbles. Sid wonders what that feels like.

“They’re idiots,” Paul says fondly, appearing at Sid’s side with his fruity drink in hand.

“Yeah,” Sid laughs. “They look like they’re having fun, though.”

“I wish I had that level of self-confidence,” Paul says.

“Me, too,” Sid says quietly.

*********

Sid doesn’t dance.

He plays hockey. He’s had his entire life planned out since he was fifteen. The plan has always been to play hockey for as many years as he can, retire when he’s about eighty or ninety, and maybe get a dog. He’s never factored another person into his Life Plan. . . . Until Geno came to Pittsburgh.

He remembers the day they met like it was yesterday and will probably remember it forever. He’d been in the Lemieux living room, letting Mario’s kids climb all over him when the doorbell rang. He had barely noticed, letting Mario get it. But a moment later, his mentor had stuck his head back into the room and said, “Sidney, could you come here a moment? There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”

Sid figured it was the new guy. From Russia. He disentangled from the kids and padded into the hall. There on the doorstep stood the biggest person Sid had ever seen. The guy was . . . Tall. Sid faltered a little just looking at him, but made it to the entryway. The guy smiled down at him, and for the first time in his life, Sid felt small. It was unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable or frightening like most new things were. It was just different.

“Sidney, this is Evgeni. Evgeni, Sidney.”

“Honour to meet,” the guy rumbled, grinning.

“He doesn’t speak much English,” Mario said.

Sid swallowed and remembered his manners, sticking a hand out to shake. The guy, Evgeni, took his hand, enveloped it really, in a warm, comfortably tight grasp and shook firmly. And he never stopped grinning. It was infectious, and before Sid knew it, he was grinning back, genuinely and full force. It only made Evgeni grin that much bigger.

“Evgeni,” Sid tried, butchering the pronunciation.

The Russian laid an enormous hand on his own chest. “Geno.”

“Geno,” Sid repeated softly, and the smile returned.

“Evgeni here will be joining the Pens this year. He’ll be staying with Gonchar until he can learn a little more English.”

Sidney barely heard Mario’s words, because Geno was still smiling down at him, and Sid was . . . _captivated_.

Mario chuckled. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

And then he was gone, and it was just Sid and Geno, standing there in the entryway. A breeze of chilly Pittsburgh fall wind blew through the still open door, making Sid shiver. Geno looked concerned for a moment, and Sid ushered him inside and closed the door.

“So you’re here to play hockey?” Sid said.

“Hockey,” Geno repeated with a gorgeous smile of understanding. He may not have understood anything Sid said, but he understood hockey, and that was good enough for Sid.

Sid smiled and nodded. “Hockey,” he agreed.

Sid’s not sure how long they stood there grinning at each other, but eventually Geno’s phone chirped. He checked it, then gestured apologetically to the door. Sid nodded his understanding, but he couldn’t let Geno go yet.

“Welcome to Pittsburgh,” he blurted. “I look forward to playing with you.”

“Pittsburgh,” Geno grinned.

Sid grinned and nodded. “Pittsburgh.”

“Hockey.”

“Yes.”

Geno grinned and stuck his hand out again. “Was nice to meet,” he stumbled through the words.

Sid grinned and shook his hand. “You, too.”

And then Geno was leaving, grinning at Sid one last time before closing the door behind himself. Sid stood alone in the entryway for a moment, unsure of what was going on. He’d felt . . . Something. Something unfamiliar and exciting.

He stood rooted to that spot until Mario came back into the hall and snapped him from his trance. “Did Evgeni leave?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Sid stuttered.

Mario came to stand in front of him, and he and Evgeni were probably about the same height, but Sid didn’t feel small like he had next to Geno. He felt normal. It didn’t make sense. Mario was his superior, and Geno was his equal; shouldn’t their effects on him have been the other way around?

“What did you think of him?” Mario prompted.

And what was Sid supposed to say? They hadn’t said much, couldn’t. He wasn’t about to tell Mario the bit about feeling small next to the Russian. Not until he figured out why that was.

Sid considered. “I look forward to seeing him play.”

It was a cop out answer, but one that made sense coming from him: “The Canadian Hockey Robot.”

“I’ve seen some of his work in the KHL, and I think he’s going to be a good addition to the team,” Mario press answered right back.

Sid nodded, and they went back into the living room. Sid went back to playing with the kids, but Geno’s smile kept cropping up in the back of his mind.

*********

It took Sid a few seasons to realize the feeling had been infatuation. Only, by the time he realized that, it had become a full blown crush. He admired everything about Geno: his style of play, his brash personality, his overall bigness, both physically and in everything he did. Sid never ceased to feel small in Geno’s presence, and he craved that feeling. He thought it should be intimidating, but instead, he felt . . . Safe.

Sid’s never been big on physical contact outside of hockey, but he actually likes for Geno to touch him. Geno’s always warm and can warm Sid to his core with a single touch. He’s more comfortable around Geno, too, more open. He can talk to Geno about things he can’t talk to anyone else about, not even Mario. Overall, Geno just makes him feel safe.

*********

“No thanks, Geno. Why don’t you go dance with Nealer?”

Geno grins at him. “Sure?”

“I don’t dance,” Sid says automatically.

“Not even for me?” Geno pouts. Sid’s so close to giving in when Geno laughs. “I go ask Nealer.”

Sid doesn’t dance.

But, he thinks, maybe he would with Geno.

*********

Sid’s content to stay at Mario’s for as long as it takes for his house to be finished and perfect. But finally, after almost a year of construction, his house is done. He’s about to go check it out after practice when Geno stops him in the parking garage.

“Sid,” the Russian says, like he’s surprised to see Sidney there. “You want to go to lunch?”

Sid hates to say no to Geno, but his _house is done_. “Sorry, G. They’re finally done with the house, and I was going to go check it out.”

“Oh,” Geno looks disappointed, but he quickly grins. “Hope it is everything Sid wants.”

And it’s that, _everything Sid wants_ , that makes Sid say, “Why don’t we grab lunch and take it back to the house?”

“Really?” Geno looks so excited.

“Yeah, why not?” Sid grins.

So they get Chinese, and Sid drives them back to his new house. He fumbles for the key on his keychain; he hasn’t had to use it yet. Then they’re in the cavernous front room, and it really is everything Sid had imagined. The hardwood floor is pristine, shining under the light that hangs from the high ceiling. The stairs are on the left, a hallway straight ahead.

They kick off their shoes and pad down the carpeted hallway into the living room. It opens to the left, and there’s a window stretching across the back wall. They turn right into the dining room that is overlooked by the kitchen.

Sid’s still taking it all in while Geno plants himself in the floor in the dining room and tears into their takeout bags. He divvies up the food while Sid is still turning in circles. He does wait to start eating, though, until Sid sits down with him. It’s funny really, how relaxed and easy it is to just sit down cross-legged in the floor of Sid’s new house together and just have lunch. Everything seems to be easier when Geno’s around, Sid thinks.

When they’ve finished eating, the trash goes in the sink because Sid doesn’t have a garbage can yet, and Sid offers Geno a tour of his new house, to which Geno agrees with a genuine smile that says he’s happy for Sid.

There’s another little room on the other side of the kitchen where Sid will most likely constantly be storing his gear. And then it’s up the stairs to another carpeted hallway. There’s a spare room on the left that’s attached to the bathroom. On the right is a small room that Sid will probably use as a study. It’s warm and cozy; he could probably put a desk in and spend hours studying the sport he loves. At the end of the hall is the master bedroom. It’s decent sized and has a window seat that overlooks the snowy trees outside. And the house is perfect, really. It’s modest without too much extra space.

Sid loves it.

He turns to ask Geno what he thinks to find Geno already watching him, so he just grins. “It’s perfect.”

“Suits you well,” Geno says.

And just the way he says it makes the tips of Sid’s ears burn. He’s so happy right now, he just . . . He wants to hug Geno.

And so he does. Geno seems a little surprised when Sid wraps his arms around his middle, but he goes with it, putting his arms around Sidney, and . . . It’s as perfect as Sid’s always dreamed it would be.

See, there are cellys, and then there are hugs. Cellys are great because it means they just scored and get to all come together to, well . . . Celly. But there’s no intimacy to it. Hugs are different, especially this one. They aren’t riding the adrenaline high of scoring a goal. Sid’s just happy, and it’s spilling over, and he wants to share it with Geno, so he’s transferring it the only way he knows how.

And maybe it’s just the perfectness of everything right now, but even the hug is perfect. Geno has him enveloped so completely in his arms. Sid feels warm and safe and just so happy. He feels Geno resting a cheek on top of his head, his arms tight around him, and he never wants to leave this.

Neither of them move for a long moment, but finally they mutually break apart.

“We should celebrate,” Geno says.

“How would we do that?” Sid asks.

“We dance,” Geno smiles.

“I don’t . . . ,” Sid goes for his natural response, but something in Geno’s eyes makes him stop short, and before he knows it, he’s saying, “Yes.”

“Really?” Geno asks, looking a combination of shocked and amused. “But Sid doesn’t dance.”

“I don’t, um . . . I don’t know how,” Sid says quietly.

“I will teach you,” Geno says, sounding determined.

“I, um . . . ,” Sid stammers.

Geno steps forward and takes one of Sid’s hands in his own, enveloping it as always, and lays the other one on Sid’s waist.

“Okay?” he says quietly.

And . . . Sid’s not uncomfortable as he would be if it were anyone else. He feels steady in Geno’s sure hands, ready to follow Geno’s lead, wherever it takes him. He takes a deep breath, looks up at Geno, and nods. Geno smiles, and Sid can’t help but smile back.

“Now, follow my lead, yes?” Geno says quietly.

“How do I . . . ?” Sid trails off.

“Will know. Will feel it,” Geno rumbles, voice low. He brings his hand on Sid’s waist up and lays it flat on Sid’s chest. “In here.”

And Sid . . . Sid trusts him.

And isn’t that a thought? The only thing that’s ever been constant in Sid’s life is hockey. Teammates and teams have come and gone, but Geno is solid and _here_ with him. And he’s not going anywhere.

Geno drops his hand back to Sid’s waist and his fingers indent the first command into Sid’s skin. Sid can feel the heat of Geno’s hand, even through his layers of clothing. They step together, in harmony, and it’s so easy, like skating with Geno. Geno sends him these little signals, and Sid moves where Geno tells him. Geno keeps it slow to begin with, and it’s kind of perfect. They move together, eyes never leaving each other’s. Normally Sid would be uncomfortable with prolonged eye contact, but he just can’t bring himself to look away. Just like that night so many years ago, Geno has him so completely captivated, that Sid couldn’t escape his grasp or even his gaze if he wanted to.

Geno has him in every way.

And he’s not letting go.

*********

“Would you be my plus one to Taylor’s wedding?”

“Plus one?”

“Date,” Sid clarifies. “Sort of.”

“When is?”

“This summer. July twenty-first.”

Geno considers a moment. “Yes.”

“Great.”

*********

The ceremony is beautiful, like everyone always says about weddings. Then everybody convoys to another building for the reception. Formalities are performed, the first dance and all that. Then guests start to make their way to the floor. Sid’s content to lean on the wall and watch, but Geno has other ideas. He takes Sid’s arm and leads him out with everybody else. Sid’s brain is saying turn around, retreat back to the wall, but his heart is saying, it’s Geno; follow him wherever he goes, because he’s Geno. They find an empty patch of floor amongst the already dancing couples, and Geno turns a grin on him that makes Sid melt.  


“Want to dance?”

“I think it’s a little late to be asking,” Sid says wryly, taking the hand Geno’s offering out. And just like always, he follows Geno’s lead.

After that, it doesn’t take long for everything to devolve as the band starts playing a very formal version of The Chicken Dance. Sid stands near the wall, laughing as he watches Geno dance with anyone that will dance with him. He doesn’t know the moves, so he makes up his own, and no one can stop laughing long enough to teach him otherwise. Taylor meanders over and picks up Geno’s moves, laughing as she dances with him. Sid’s hit by such a wave of fondness at watching his best friend getting along so well with his baby sister. Taylor’s always loved Geno like another brother, but it’s still heartwarming to see.

Once the song ends, Geno makes his way back to Sid, says something about getting a drink, and then disappears. A second later, Taylor appears in his place.

“I saw that,” she says, jabbing a finger in Sid’s chest.

“Saw what?” Sid asks innocently.

“You were dancing with Geno!” Taylor exclaims. “Since when do you dance?”

“As a matter of fact, Geno taught me,” Sid says.

Taylor raises her eyebrows. “Did he now?”

“Yeah, when my house in Pittsburgh got finished. I gave him the tour, and then we danced in my bedroom.” Sid furrows his brow, “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“No,” Taylor says matter-of-factly. “It’s adorable.”

“I was wondering how long it would take you guys to figure it out,” she says with a sly grin.

“Figure what out?” Sid asks.

Taylor rolls her eyes. “That you’re both stupid in love with each other.”

“We’re not--” Sid starts, but the look Taylor gives him cuts him off short.

“Prepare your puppy dog eyes; he’s coming back,” Taylor says with a nod over Sid’s shoulder.

And then Geno’s there, grinning and handing Sid a glass of water. Sid takes it and thanks him absently, still trying to process everything Taylor’s said.

“You should tell him,” Taylor says and then disappears again.

“Tell me what?” Geno asks, taking a drink of his own water.

“Do you want to, uh . . . Take a walk?”

The sun is starting to set by the time they get outside. The building is at the bottom of a grassy hill, so they start up it. Neither says anything until they’ve made it to the top and sat down in the grass to watch the sun’s descent. And Sid doesn’t even worry about getting his suit dirty, that’s how comfortable he is with Geno around.

“So, listen, G. There’s something I need to tell you,” Sid says.

Geno hesitates. “Can tell me anything, Sid.”

“I know,” Sid nods, picking at the grass between them. “But this is kind of big. And you don’t have to say anything; I just want you to know this.”

Geno watches him, waiting. Sid takes a deep breath and looks up to meet his steady, warm gaze.

“Geno, I love you,” he says. “I have since the night we met.”

Geno looks out at the sunset and nods. “I love Sid, too. Have just as long.”

And then he turns his easy smile on Sid, and it’s just . . . Easy. Everything is so easy with Geno and always has been. Before he can think better of it, Sid leans forward tentatively and presses his mouth to Geno’s softly. He holds for a second, then starts to draw back, but Geno cups the back of his head in one enormous hand and reigns him back in. Sid goes easily, and Geno kisses him oh, so softly, and Sid can feel himself melting underneath him.

*********

The Pens win The Cup the next season, Sid and Geno’s second Cup together. Then before everyone can go their separate ways for the summer, all the Penguins, staff, and Sid’s and Geno’s families fill up the little church a couple blocks over. The wedding had been set for “after the season, as late into summer as possible,” and now it is finally happening.

And Sid isn’t nervous. Not when he meets Geno in front of the team and their families, not when he says his vows, not even when he seals the deal, pledging to spend the rest of his life with Geno, with two little words. As always when he’s around Geno, he just feels happy. Still small, but very, very happy.

The nerves don’t even set in when everyone’s made it to the reception building, and it’s time for their first dance. They’d let the team pick the song, hoping their teammates were mature enough to keep it tasteful. The song that plays over the speakers is a country song that neither boy has heard of. Nevertheless, they find their rhythm together and begin to dance, and it’s perfect as ever.

The guy wails out, “I don’t dance, but here I am,” and Sid catches a glimpse of Flower and Nealer high-fiving over Geno’s shoulder. He smiles and shakes his head, turning his attention back to Geno. “They’re idiots.”

“Is fitting of Sid,” Geno rumbles and swoops in to kiss him softly once.

Sid’s vaguely aware of a few of their teammates cheering in the background, but his world is pretty much zeroed down to Geno right now.

The rest of the night is a blur, but Sid makes sure to thank Taylor when he dances with her. Everything is so crazy. They just won The Cup, and then, less than forty-eight hours later, he and Geno got married. Sid’s life couldn’t be happier right now, and he feels like he’s going to burst with it. And every time it all gets to be too much, Geno’s there, taking his hand and spinning him around, sharing the load of it all, and everything is perfect.

And Geno is always there for him, for the rest of forever, at his side through everything. And no matter how much the world piles on, Geno’s always there to take his hand and just dance with him, and that’s all it takes.

(And they get a puppy, and they name it Stanley!)


End file.
